The Dinner Date
by muchmadness
Summary: DL. A fancy restaurant, good food, a pretty dress.
1. Chapter 1

_Umm ... DL established relationship, I guess. I don't own the characters. This will be two parts. Thanks kcaitlin for the help._

* * *

Lindsay Monroe had always wanted a dress that showed off everything. The kind of slinky, slippery, impossible to resist type of dress.

Thing is, she never imagined she'd be wearing her perfect dress on a date she really didn't want to be on. _It _is _the perfect dress, though, _she admitted to herself as she smoothed the fabric covering the tops of her thighs under the table. She smiled at the man in front of her, who was staring, not too subtly, at her breasts. Then again, it's not like she was wearing a turtleneck. The dress cut under her boobs, hoisting them up, and further emphasized them with two strips of shiny, red, fabric that cut up to her neck.

"You look even better than your picture," the man said.

"Thank you, Alan," Lindsay smiled. The picture she'd sent him had been taken by Danny – a little snapshot of Lindsay stretched out on a couch with a cookie in her hand. The odd part was that she was wearing one of Danny's button down shirts, considering she'd removed it from his chest nearly an hour before. Danny had admitted that he felt a kind of perverse satisfaction about that.

Lindsay dangled one gold high heel from her toe lazily, eyes wandering about the restaurant. It was a beautiful place. The ceiling was a deep purple, one of Lindsay's favorite colors. The tables were covered in the whitest cloth she'd ever seen, the lights low, giving everything a soft, sensual look. She snapped back to Alan, reminding herself of the task at hand.

"So, Alan, tell me about yourself?"

Alan finished the bite of steak he'd been working on. He swallowed and picked up the napkin with one, beefy, gold-ringed hand. He daintily dabbed the steak sauce off of his mouth.

"Well," he grunted in his smooth baritone, "I think we both know that tonight is about _you, _Ms. Monroe." He smiled toothily, baring the bit of broccoli caught in the crease between his two front teeth.

Lindsay heard a dramatic cough from the table next to her. She blinked her exaggerated lashes, ignoring it. "That's so sweet of you," she giggled in a high-pitched whine. She concentrated on making her face vacant and devoid of intelligence.

"So tell me, where did you grow up?"

"I was born in a little town in Montana." She winced internally. She meant to say Kentucky. She and Danny had planned this whole persona, and she'd just screwed it up with her habits and her stupid reflexes. _Fix it, Monroe. Fix it._ "But then," she said quickly, "we moved to Kentucky." She flashed a smile of her perfectly white teeth. "How about you, Alan?"

"I was born in Canada – Toronto, more specifically."

"What's it like there?" Lindsay asked sweetly.

"Cold," Alan winked.

They spoke cordially until the busboy took away their plates. They were left with an empty table and two wine glasses. Lindsay was feeling the buzz already. _It might just be anticipation, _she guessed.

"So tell me, Ms. Monroe, you mentioned that you were having some financial difficulties?"

Lindsay put on a pout and nodded sadly. "I just get these credit card bills …" she waved her hand in the air. "But it's such a silly conversation to have at a dinner." She smiled and took a sip of her wine.

"Well, Ms. Monroe," Alan said, clearing his throat, "I may have a solution."

"Oh really?" Lindsay asked looking up at him. She heard a chair move behind her, heard a foot tapping up and down.

"Mm-hmm." Alan swirled the dark red wine in his glass before taking a small sip. "I have a little proposition."

"What's that?" Lindsay asked stupidly, propping her chin up with her hand.

"I have a few … associates, one might say, who are in some very high up jobs, and they don't have much time for dating. They'd really appreciate it if some sweet, innocent girl like yourself," he smirked at Lindsay, who grinned back, "would go on a little date with them."

"Just a date?" Lindsay asked sweetly.

"You bet," Alan smiled.

Lindsay heard a snort from behind her. She coughed to cover it up, mentally cursing the people behind her. "So I go out to dinner with these guys, and they pay me?"

Alan nodded.

Lindsay's eyes widened dramatically. "Well, gee, that sounds so easy!"

Alan laughed. "I like your enthusiasm." He paid the check that was just placed on their table with a credit card and handed it to the waiter. "Now, I suggest that we call tonight a practice run, shall we?"

Lindsay nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"There's just one more thing you're going to have to do."

"What's that?"

"Well, I'll show you." The waiter returned his credit card and Alan signed the check. He got up and motioned for Lindsay to follow him. She took his arm, glancing lightly at the table behind theirs, where Danny and Flack sat, looking extraordinarily attractive in their button down shirts and dress pants. Danny gave her thigh a brush with his hand as she swept past him on Alan's arm, reminding her that he'd be right behind her.

They went out of the restaurant and into the hotel next door, where Lindsay had been informed that Alan was staying. She saw Mac sitting in the lobby, looking at her and Alan over his newspaper.

They got into the elevator, and once they turned around, Lindsay could clearly see Danny and Flack slowly walking their way, presumably to take the next cab up.

The second the doors closed, Alan leaned in and kissed Lindsay hard. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she worked out the pros and cons of informing him that she was a police officer right then and there. _Pros: he gets his disgustingly limp tongue out of my mouth. Cons: we're in a tiny room. I don't have my gun. He's a hell of a lot bigger than me. _She came to the obvious conclusion and decided to wait it out. They stepped out into the hall once the elevator doors opened.

Alan stepped back and smiled at her. Lindsay used every last bit of restraint she had to not wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She tasted steak. She did not like steak.

She smiled weakly.

He opened the hotel door and reached out for Lindsay's hand. She glanced at him, then heard the elevator doors ping behind her, signaling Danny and Flack's arrival. She took Alan's outstretched hand and stepped in behind him.

Once she was in the lavishly decorated room, Lindsay reached into her purse and put her hand on her cell phone, barely contained in her tiny purse. Danny had pushed for a gun instead of a phone, but Mac had worried that she be discovered with it, thus compromising the situation.

She had their numbers on speedial, and knew that they were under strict instruction to move in the second they got the call.

She was not aware that Danny wanted to move in much quicker than that. He was currently pressed against the wall outside of the room, gun in hand, in the middle of a silent argument with Flack about whether or not to go in.

He jerked his head towards the door, teeth gritted in desperation.

Flack shook his head, holding up a finger, indicating that Danny wait. He pressed his ear to the door, listening to the hushed conversation Lindsay and Alan were having.

Lindsay looked from the closed door to Alan, and back again, debating the best mode of action. She wasn't sure they had enough to convict the guy yet. Lindsay needed to get him, had to get him. She'd been the one to interview the sobbing, broken women who'd sat before her, one after the other, like some terrible parade, telling stories of what this man had forced them to do. Lindsay knew she had to do it, for Susana, Mary-Ann, and Louise – the three women out of twenty who'd managed to escape from Alan's clutches.

"I … I … so, what are we doing here?" Lindsay asked stupidly, blinking her lashes once more and flashing an innocent smile at Alan.

"Take off your clothes," Alan said gruffly, moving towards her.

"I don't want to," Lindsay said firmly, backing up.

"Don't you want to get out of debt?" Alan grinned, removing his jacket.

"Is this the only way?" Lindsay asked, hand fumbling in her purse for the phone. She pressed the speedial quickly. Before the door could slam open, Alan ripped a gun out of the back of his pants and pointed it right at her.

Flack's pocket buzzed, but he had no time to answer it. The second Lindsay's surprised squeak sounded from the room, Danny wasted no time in kicking the door in. Flack had no choice but to follow, gun drawn and pointed in front of himself.

They stepped in the room to find Lindsay pressed firmly against Alan's rotund form, her dress torn at the strap, and hanging down to reveal a lacy bra. Alan's beefy hand was pressed to Lindsay's breast; the other held a gun to the side of her head. Lindsay was facing the door, her eyes locked on Danny's.


	2. Chapter 2

"NYPD, drop your weapon," Flack said swiftly, pointing his gun in front of him.

Danny's eyes locked on Lindsay's. He kept his gun ahead of him, training it on the sliver of Alan's head that was visible. Alan was holding Lindsay in front of all of the places Danny and Flack desperately wanted to hit – his head, his heart.

Lindsay shifted to get out of the painful hold Alan had on her breast. Alan roughly pulled her tighter to him, causing Lindsay's dress to slip off of her shoulder and down to her waist.

_Awesome, _she thought sarcastically, _now Flack has seen me in a bra. He'll never let this go._

"Montana, y'alright?" Danny asked slowly, keeping his eyes on hers.

"You're with _them_?" Alan hissed to Lindsay's neck. His breath was moist and hot, prickling her skin where it grazed. As Alan pulled her closer, he squeezed her breast painfully hard. Lindsay held in a yelp and winced.

"Let her go," Danny said firmly, his voice echoing through the hotel room.

"I'm doing business, here, gentlemen, I suggest you leave."

"Well you're doing _business _with one of my CSIs," Flack retorted.

Danny and Flack started advancing, slowly, towards Alan and Lindsay.

Alan pressed his gun tighter to Lindsay's head. "Don't move another step or she gets it," he said with a small smile. Lindsay nearly rolled her eyes, _Talk about your cliché movie lines, _she thought. Flack and Danny bought it, though, and stayed where they were – a good ten feet from Lindsay and Alan.

"Just back up out of the room," Alan told them, "This young lady and I have some things to talk about."

"I don't really see that happening," Danny growled.

"Let's talk about what's gonna happen after this," Flack called to Alan, sliding into negotiator mode.

As Alan and Flack talked back and forth about deals and jailtime, Lindsay and Danny had a little private conversation of their own.

_You hurt? _Danny mouthed to her.

She shook her head. Danny didn't see much wrong with her besides a little scratch under her right eye, just a little slice in her skin. A tiny bead of blood formed in the center of it, then slowly slipped down her cheek, like a red tear.

_I'm fine, _Lindsay mouthed back.

_We'll get you out, _he returned.

She gave a weak smile. She was about to ask him something when Alan dragged her back. She shuffled back with her feet, regaining her balance.

"I don't like your terms, Detective Flack," Alan said gruffly. He backed up until his flabby behind hit the fire escape. "Open the window," he told Lindsay.

"No," she said firmly, "Do it yourself."

"Montana …" Danny warned. He could see she was getting mad. When she got mad, she got brave. He had no desire for her to be brave.

Lindsay rolled her eyes and moved to undo the window. Alan finally let go of her breast and she gave a sigh of relief. She reached around his body (no small feat) and undid the window lock, then pushed the window up. Already, she could see that Alan was not going to fit. She smiled. Then she jabbed him in his doughy stomach with the sharp point of her elbow. Alan yelped.

In reflex, Alan shoved her forwards. Lindsay smacked her head on the table and heard a loud 'pop' behind her. Everything grew glazed with a murky cover. Sounds were weak murmurs, and she couldn't discern the shapes around her.

Her ears hurt from the bangs and pops going off all around her, until finally someone grabbed her, threw her to the ground, and covered her. She smelled him and knew who it was, but blood dripped from the new gash above her eye and impeded her vision. Danny drew his arms over her head as Flack and Alan exchanged bullets.

Three pops from one side. Two from the other. Lindsay guessed that Alan and Flack were hiding behind various pieces of furniture in the hotel room, popping out only to fire their weapons.

She knew that she and Danny were right in the middle of it, pressed up against a couch, next to the table that had caused the gash above her eye. She heard a lull in the noise, and tiny clicking sounds. Someone was reloading. From the location, she guessed it was Flack. Suddenly, Danny moved himself up onto his forearms, held Lindsay's head to his chest, and fired off a single shot through the couch.

She heard Alan cry out and groan.

"Got him?" Flack yelled.

"Yeah, think so," Danny said.

Lindsay heard footsteps as Flack walked out from behind the second couch. "Alan McClain, you are under arrest," she heard him yell.

She felt Danny's fingers on her forehead, heard a ripping sound. She cracked one eye open. Danny had taken off his jacket and was tearing his white shirt, ripping off a piece of the sleeve.

"What are you doing?" Lindsay mumbled.

"Shh-shh, just relax, OK?" He pressed the cloth to the cut on her head. Lindsay winced.

"My shoulder hurts," she said sleepily.

Danny leaned up on his forearms and looked at the puddle of red blood that was blooming on her shoulder, next to her bra strap.

"Fuck," she heard Danny mutter as she faded out of consciousness.

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open again in the hospital, she guessed, as she looked around at the white walls and starched white sheets. She looked over onto her side to see Danny, sleeping fitfully, on a couch on the other side of the room. He had dried blood splotching on his shirt, but appeared to be unharmed.

"Hey, kiddo," Stella said from her other side of her bed.

Lindsay turned and smiled at her. "What's going on?" She asked, feeling the itchy bandage on her head.

"You got pretty beat up back there," Stella said.

"What happened after I passed out?"

Stella smiled. "Danny carried you downstairs, yelling for Hawkes like a madman."

Lindsay gave a weak laugh.

"Hawkes fixed you up, for the most part. He came here with you, in the ambulance. Danny and I followed."

"Did we get Alan?" Lindsay croaked, her throat parched from lack of water.

Stella nodded. "He was hit in the leg. He got bandaged up; Flack took him to central booking."

"That's good," Lindsay sighed. She fingered the cut above her head, sliding her fingers under the bandage. She found at least three bumpy stitches. She winced and groaned. "I'm going to have a scar."

"Worth it, for what you put me through," Danny grunted from the couch.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lindsay smiled at him.

Danny got up and handed her a glass of water, helping her hold it and drink it. "It means," he said gruffly, "that you practically gave me a heart attack. You ever think about going undercover again, I'll lock you up in holding."

Lindsay laughed, but Danny seemed to be serious. He touched her bandage softly. "So when am I going home?" Lindsay asked.

"A few days from now," Stella said. She checked her watch and her phone. "I'm going to go get some coffee. I've got a hell of a lot of paperwork to do, and I'm on all night. I'll come around and see you in the morning, honey." Stella smoothed back Lindsay's hair and gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be fine," she promised, and left.

Danny watched Lindsay shift back into the light sheet before taking her hand. He kissed the top of her head and brushed her hair with his fingers.

"Are you going to take care of me?" Lindsay joked, leaning into his open palm.

"You bet," Danny said softly, a small smile on his face. The smile faded slowly, and he resumed his stroking of her hair. "Almost lost ya there."

Lindsay shrugged with her good shoulder. "I was fine."

Danny chuckled. "Depends on your definition of fine."

Lindsay smiled and closed her eyes.

He took a deep breath. "If you'da … I mean, you didn't, but if … I really …" Danny fumbled.

"I love you, too, Danny."

"Yeah. I love you." He kissed her neck, and a slow smile spread over his face. "Now scoot over, we're sharin' the bed."

She laughed and let him curl in next to her. He put an arm around her and she lay back on his shoulder.

A few minutes later, when she thought he'd fallen asleep, he spoke. "We can get the dress fixed."

Lindsay laughed sleepily. "Why?"

"We should go out. On a date. With you in that dress. Please?"

"Later," Lindsay mumbled, and snuggled into his side.


End file.
